Regency Society Collection Part 1. Sarah Mallory
we are together before his very eyes.’
She stared into the crowd, looking for Barton, sick with dread of what was to come.
‘Do not search after other men, when you are in my arms. I find it most damaging to the spirit to think I cannot hold your attention for the space of a single dance.’ His tone hardened. ‘Particularly if you must look at Barton. I had hoped, after what I needed to do for you last week, and all the fine talk in the garden about wanting an honourable marriage, that you would have the sense to stay away from him.’
‘I could not help myself,’ she admitted with honesty.
‘Nor could you the last time. You needed my help, as I remember it. And were willing to go to surprising lengths to get it.’
She lifted her chin. ‘And I do not need you any more.’
‘You are done with me, then?’
‘Yes,’ she insisted. ‘I wish you to leave me alone. And leave Barton alone, as well.’
‘And what happened to all the pretty words about preferring my attentions to those of Barton’s?’
‘The situation has changed.’
‘I see.’ He could see exactly what she wanted him to see. He was angry. Angry enough to leave, she hoped, since she did not know how much longer she could stand to lie to him.
‘I do not need your help or your company, and wish you to stay far from me in the future.’
Instead he pulled her even closer, so that her body brushed his coat front and his lips were near her ear. His voice was rough as he said, ‘I will leave you, then. But before I go, let me help you one last time with a word of advice. Stay away from Barton. His star is no longer on the rise. When things come crashing down about him, I would hate to see you caught in the result.’
She felt sick and frightened and angry, all at the same time. She could go to Barton because he forced her to, only to have Smythe destroy her along with Barton. Or she could not go to Barton, and he would destroy Smythe and everyone else around her. Either way, she was trapped.
‘And that is your idea of help, is it?’ She slapped him on the shoulder hard enough to knock him out of step. ‘And now, Mr Smythe, I will tell you what I think of your help. You have been breaking into Barton’s home for reasons of your own, and only pretending to help me. But it does not really have much to do with me, does it? For you have been spying on Barton since that first day, when I caught you spying on me. You claim you want to help, and you pretend to be different. But you are no different than Barton is. First you flatter, then you steal, and if you are not successful, you try blackmail. And at last, you resort to threats to make me do as you wish.’
‘Threats?’ He pushed her away so that he could look down into her eyes, trying to read the truth in them until she was forced to look away to hide it. ‘He is threatening you still?’ The hand that held hers squeezed her fingers and he pulled her close again. ‘Why did you not just tell me? When I saw you together, I thought…Well, never mind what I thought. I was a fool.’ He glanced at the musicians. ‘The dance will be ending soon. Tell Barton whatever you like: that I forced you to dance or that you went willingly to spite him. Then, the first chance you get, lose yourself in the crowd. Do not go to him tonight, no matter what he is holding over your head. And I will be sure he does not come to you. You needn’t be afraid of him or do anything that you do not wish to do. I can still help you, if you will let me. Why did you not ask?’
She thought of Barton’s threats, and what might happen to Tony if she involved him again. ‘The last time, what I asked you to do was wrong. I can not ask it again. It is too dangerous.’
He leaned forward and laughed in her ear. ‘It is in my nature to do wrong. There is very little you can do to redeem my character other than to allow me to use my more improper talents in a good cause. What you asked was no imposition, and a chance to see some much-needed justice done in the world. I do not care a fig for the dangers that concern you. I will bring down Barton in any case, but I do not want my actions to injure you, for you are innocent of his villainy. If he is doing something to thwart that, then will you do me the great honour of allowing me to help you again?’
She hesitated, and he spun her around the floor so that Barton could not see them speak.
‘Say the word, your Grace. I will not impose on you further, if you truly do not wish it. But if you but nod, I will come to your rooms later, and you can tell me all. Then, if you do not wish my help, send me away.’
She was almost weak with relief at the thought of talking to him, and leaned against him and let him feel the change in her body as she gave herself up to his protection.
He squeezed her hand again. ‘Very well, then. Go home and unlock your window.’ He smiled at her. As the music ended, he spun her back to the place she had been, to stand by the irate Barton. ‘Delightful, your Grace, and so sorry to impose, but I could not resist the temptation to steal the dance.’
She watched the light of recognition flare in Barton’s eyes at his choice of words.
Barton glared at him. ‘You should be careful what you steal, sir. For you know what happens to thieves.’
Tony laughed. ‘I have but to read The Times to see that, sir. Hanging. But at least it is not so bad as the thing that happens to traitors. While the courts might show leniency to a thief, counterfeiting is high treason. To be hanged, drawn and quartered for acting against your own country?’ Tony shuddered theatrically. ‘A nasty end, is it not, Jack?’
Barton’s normal composure broke, and he grew even angrier than he had been; his cold smile turned to a grimace of fury and his colouring was mottled red. ‘Then a traitor need have no reason to fear doing murder, Smythe. The slow and painful death of another will add nothing to the severity of the punishment, should one be caught.’
She reached out and tugged Barton’s sleeve to distract him, and he shook her off.
Tony tipped his head to one side, considering. ‘I suppose it would not, if one could manage such a feat. But in your case, I have my doubts. Shall we see?’ And he turned and started towards the dark walks.
And Barton cursed once, and made to follow. Then he turned back to her. ‘You are to return home immediately, go to your room, and wait for me there.’
She grabbed his arm. ‘I will do nothing of the kind. I know what you mean to do. And you promised you would not.’
Tony turned back and looked at her curiously. ‘Do as he says, Constance. Go home. Whatever occurs, I do not wish you to be a part of it. Do you understand?’
She looked between the two men, both implacable. ‘Go.’ Barton pointed towards the exit as though ordering a dog to its kennel.
‘Please, your Grace,’ Tony added.
And then he walked away, in the direction of the most secluded paths, disappearing into the nearest crowd.
Barton followed.
Constance sat on the end of her bed, knotting and unknotting her handkerchief in quaking hands. Why had she listened to either of them? She should have thrown herself onto Barton and held him back.
But Tony had gone so quickly and left Barton to push and shove his way through a group of people. When she had gone after him, she had been swept along with the group, and was near to the exit before she got clear, having seen no sign of Tony or Barton.
She had searched for a while, but been afraid to venture into the darkness alone, and finally had hired a hackney and hurried back to her house, shooed the maid away, locked the door and unlocked the window. Please, dear Lord, let it be Tony who arrived and not Barton. She did not think she could bear the sight of him, much less his touch, if she knew that he had come to her rooms with Tony’s blood on his